


Ineffable Sacrifice

by Ineffable_cup_of_tea



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Armageddon, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cute Aziraphale (Good Omens), F/M, Godparents Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Multi, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Poor Crowley can’t catch a break (Good Omens), Rapture, Snuggly Crowley (Good Omens), Softie Crowley (Good Omens), The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), gayship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 10:30:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19990675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ineffable_cup_of_tea/pseuds/Ineffable_cup_of_tea
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale have averted Armeggedon once, but when it comes back with a vengeance, they must learn to accept it. Meanwhile, the Second Coming Of Jesus is on his way, and it’s up to them to raise him.Warning: extremely dark and mature topics covered in later chapters.





	Ineffable Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve worked very hard on this story, and many chapters are coming! I expect this to be at least fifty chapters, probably more. I love Good Omens, and I hope you enjoy how I’ve demonstrated that dynamic. This first chapter is really short compared to later ones, forgive me.

** Chapter One: Agnes’ Warning **

For many people, life continued as normal after the averted Armageddon. Some drug addicts were shocked into rehabilitation, but just as many simple stoners became crackheads after deciding they couldn’t take the craziness of the world without it.

Everyone else continued to wake up, stretch their limbs, eat breakfast, and drive to work in the morning just like they had before.

For almost everyone, it was over, done with. Nothing else to deal with.

This is where they’d be wrong. 

A specific demon on the Earth had, just like the 400-year-old witch, Agnes, predicted the future when he figured that Armageddon hadn’t been averted, but merely delayed.

Delayed by around 23 years. 

And This again shows that God does not play dice with the universe.

He simply grabs his divine clock, sets it back, and grabs the deck of cards again, ready to deal a new hand to each and every living thing He created.

The Dealer smiles. As always.

And plays a card simply known as the High Priestess to any familiar with Tarot readings.

Or, as some would call it, the Witch.

As the flames curled and darkened the pages of the Further Nice And Accurate Prophecies Of Agnes Nutter that bright day in the park, the smoke that drifted upwards formed a face, one that would have been frighteningly familiar to Thou-Shalt-Not-Commit-Adultery Pulsifer: Agnes Nutter herself. And she was not pleased. 

Anathema, sensing something, sat up quickly, jostling Newt, who was at her side. She looked up just as her ancestor’s annoyed visage vanished into thin air. Ah; it was simply a dream. They’d been sleeping side by side in Jasmine Cottage, in fact. 

“Newt?” Anathema turned to him quizzically.”Did you see that?” She asked, just in case.

Newt had to admit, he wasn’t paying any attention. He had been wondering intensely how he had gotten so, excuse the term, lucky*. He’d also happened to be asleep.

“No, I’m sorry, Anathema.” He mumbled, barely awake. Newt looked over at where she’d been staring, and saw nothing out of the ordinary in the early morning light.

No, he did see someone, out the window. Adam and Dog, they were running through the orchard, the Antichrist giggling joyously as he escaped his neighbor’s clutches. Newt felt a smile pulling at his lip. It was crazy to think, a week ago, he hadn’t even believed in witches. How things change.

Anathema, meanwhile, had scrambled up out of bed and got dressed quickly, heading for the kitchen.

Newt tore his gaze away from the orchard and ran after his girlfriend. 

She bolted in the door and looked suspiciously around to see if anything had changed: as Newt followed her in, bumping into her in his haste, she noted nothing out of place. 

“What did you expect to find in here, darling?” Newt inquired.

Anathema suddenly gasped. “Newt, where did you put Agnes’ box?!” She demanded.

He pointed at the counter she had breezed past, and there it sat.

The box, rusted and ancient, suddenly seemed to be taunting Anathema. A scowl came across her face. 

“Get me a phone book.”

“But, why? Darling?”

“I need to call someone about the fate of the world.” Anathema gritted her teeth. At least her contact would be willing to listen.

She hoped.

Aziraphale sat alone in his dusty Soho bookstore. He was thumbing through one of his ‘classics’, though to him any book less than 75 years old seemed brand new compared to some he had in stock**. 

And although he’d tried, he couldn’t focus on the page in front of him. He couldn’t think of so many things: of the terror when he saw Crowley being pulled away from him, in disguise as a certain soft-tempered angel. He couldn’t think of what he, a disobedient angel, would be subjected to once Head Office got over the trick and came to collect him. And mostly, he couldn’t think of Crowley himself. 

Though to be fair, Aziraphale was failing miserably at that. Crowley occupied most of his waking thoughts, and that was a lot, seeing as how he didn’t sleep. ‘In fact’,he thought, ‘I don’t know what I’d do withou-‘

Interrupting his train of thought, the phone next to him rang. The book seemed to escape his hands in his excitement. 

“Hello?” Aziraphale said, attempting to keep his voice casual. 

Instead of the reptilian voice he’d-not-so-secretly hoped for, Anathema, the pleasant witch from Lower Tadfield he’d met after Crowley ran her over in the Bentley***, answered.

“I can’t find it.”

“Can’t find what?”Aziraphale asked, flabbergasted.

“There’s another prophecy, I just know it. Where is it?” She snapped, half to herself. 

The angel stiffened.”How would I know that?” He responded, slightly offended.

“I felt it. You need to help me, please!”

He sighed into the receiver.”Miss Device, I don’t think I can.”

“You’re an angel! If you must, you can bring the one with sunglasses, and please come to Jasmine Cottage!” Anathema said. A second later, Aziraphale heard a man’s voice, and her shushing. Then, abruptly, she hung up.

He sighed. So much for not thinking about Crowley.

Resigned, he dialed the number. After three rings, his favorite demon**** picked up.

“Only you’d call now, Angel. Do you need something?” His silky voice melted Aziraphale’s brain. He couldn’t remember what he’d needed to call for.

“Uhmm.....uh-no. I mean- Yes!” He stuttered out. “Another prophecy. Lower Tadfield called, asking us to go to Anathema. Wait-“

Crowley chuckled. “I’ll be there in five minutes, angel. Don’t worry.”

Aziraphale frowned.”Drive safely.” But Crowley had already hung up.

‘Why does that keep happening to me today?’ He wondered, and glanced longingly at the book he’d no longer be able to finish this evening.

Aziraphale turned to the window, and thought again about that demon, the one who’d truly always been by his side.

“Why do I care so much about him?” He said aloud to himself.

*It was surprising that the Pulsifers had made it that far, anyhow. Their success was attributed mostly to prostitutes, extremely drunken nights, and accidental pregnancies. So in Newt’s case, he was practically Casanova. Actually, his great-great-Great grandfather had been forced to marry the one girl in town who was deaf and blind. Their marriage, reportedly, was extremely rocky.

**Aziraphale believed that somewhere he had a copy of Sumerian writings speaking of tax returns, though that was somewhat of a dull read.

*** Aziraphale swore he didn’t originally realize her bike hadn’t had gears, but Crowley still made occasional references to this blunder, especially when they would pass by bike repair shops on a stroll.

****believe it or not, Aziraphale did in fact know multiple demons, though he hadn’t spoken to any since the Rebellion. He had a second favorite, actually. A very extremely distant second favorite demon named Eligos. They’d been close once, when they were both angels, but you know how things go.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! The next few are already written, just need to be published! Thank you so much for reading it!


End file.
